As the match drew near, Ronin could see promotional posters for himself all over Heavens Arena.
"Supernova: The Cold-Blooded Teen Ronin" versus "Ugly Greg."
That was the poster—one that made Greg look like he wanted to swallow Ronin alive the moment they met.
Milia had really maxed out the hatred meter for him.
But during those five days of waiting, Ronin also witnessed Milia's frightening efficiency and powerful network.
She brought him the news he wanted most: information about the Scarlet Eyes.
"I got word that someone has a pair of Scarlet Eyes. If you can offer a high enough price, they're not unwilling to sell," Milia said, handing Ronin the intel directly.
In the photo attached to the file, a pair of Scarlet Eyes had been sealed in a bottle.
And that bottle… Ronin recognized it instantly. It was the same kind of container he'd seen when he snatched the previous owner's father's eyes from Uvogin.
Which forced Ronin to consider whether the seller behind this might be the Phantom Troupe.
"Price?" Ronin frowned.
"In recent years, Scarlet Eyes have gone for around one billion. But this seller is asking for more than 1.5 billion—maybe even two billion!"
To Ronin, that price was still reasonable. Kurapika's 2.9 billion purchase back then clearly had an element of spiteful bidding.
What truly worried Ronin was this: if the seller really was the Phantom Troupe, then he had to consider the possibility of buying a fake.
"I need to conceal my identity when I deal with the seller," Ronin stated his requirement immediately.
There was only one reason: to avoid buying a counterfeit.
With the Sharingan, Ronin could easily judge authenticity through that unique sense of attraction. If it wasn't the real Scarlet Eyes, he'd know.
He didn't believe Kortopi's copied Scarlet Eyes could make his own eyes evolve. If they could—then fine, he'd accept it.
It would even be good news.
At that point, all he'd need to do was capture Kortopi, and who knew how far his Sharingan could evolve?
The Rinnegan?
Or something beyond even the Rinnegan?
But he suspected that was impossible.
As for why he needed to hide his identity—given his relationship with the Troupe, the moment they met, a fight was guaranteed.
Without enough strength, he would avoid that.
And once he did have enough strength… then it would be his turn to slaughter the Troupe.
Milia had no objections. In fact, she could roughly guess why Ronin wanted to stay hidden.
After thinking briefly, she nodded. "Alright. And after your match with Greg, you should have about enough to buy that pair."
"Working with you really was the right call." Ronin smiled in satisfaction.
If he relied only on himself, earning two billion jenny in the short term would be difficult.
But if one match could net him two billion…
That meant under Milia's operation, the match's total profit would exceed four billion.
No wonder she was a gold-level agent.
After all, just the prize money on the 190th floor could reach 200 million. On the 200th floor, with the right promotion and hype, making four billion didn't seem impossible.
In the end, when you reach the top of any industry, making money becomes easy.
And compared to ordinary people, Nen users were basically beyond "top-tier" in fighting.
"Actually, if you're not in a rush, we could probably push the price down," Milia said at last—she'd held it in for a long time, but couldn't help herself.
"How so?"
Through his time with Milia, Ronin had noticed she had her own philosophy and habits about saving money.
She was like a hoarding hamster—she loved earning money and loved stockpiling it. She hated spending, though when it truly mattered she wouldn't hesitate—she'd just mutter things like: Every cent spent now is for earning more later.
"Ever since the Kurta clan was wiped out, people have been quietly selling Scarlet Eyes. By now, at least a dozen pairs have ended up in the hands of private collectors. I even heard that this year's Yorknew auction will include several pairs. If you can wait, you can definitely get them for cheaper.
In my estimate, the price shouldn't exceed 1.5 billion."
Even on Milia's cool, composed face, she couldn't help showing a little pain when she said that—like Ronin would be spending her money.
Maybe that was "immersion."
Ronin couldn't help smiling. "No need to wait. I'm going to Yorknew for the auction anyway."
"Fine." Milia returned to her aloof, ice-queen tone. "Your money, your choice. I'm just the agent."
April 25th arrived quickly amid Ronin's training.
When he stepped onto the ring, Ronin saw support banners raised in the front rows—some fans even cheered in an organized way.
Meanwhile, "Ugly Greg" across from him looked even worse than before.
Now he resembled a one-eyed, ugly gourd.
"You damn bastard! I'll tear you apart on the ring!"
The referee hadn't even announced the start yet, and Greg was already cursing him out.
"I understand, Ugly-san."
Ronin replied with a smile—and the description he felt suited Greg best.
"AAAAAARGH!" Greg's rage surged, his face flushing red.
The referee's mouth twitched. He didn't even dare look at Greg's face, afraid he'd break professionalism and laugh.
So he quickly stepped back and shouted, "The match begins now!"
The instant the words fell, Greg exploded forward at his top speed, charging straight at Ronin.
Ronin's expression turned serious. Aura gathered into his eyes—Gyo—so he could see every thread of Nen flowing through Greg more clearly.
At the same time, more aura surged across his body, forming Ren, and his feet shifted into a defensive counterfighting stance.
But when Greg closed to within three meters, a brick suddenly appeared in his raised hand.
With a burst of arm strength, he swung it down at Ronin's head.
Ronin slapped the brick away—
And immediately Greg's other hand, which he'd kept hidden, flung a huge cloud of lime powder straight at Ronin's face.
This guy really had no shame.
With that thought, Ronin's left fist—already coiled at his waist—shot out.
At the same instant, his eyes flashed faintly red, and the fierce wind from his punch blasted the lime powder right back at Greg.
It looked exactly like Uvogin's corridor punch that had blown through the Great Fireball.
And that move—
Was Uvogin's signature technique:
Big Bang Impact!